


french diaries

by isleofhopelessbirds



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bullying, F/F, F/M, Flower Child Harry, France (Country), Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Punk Louis, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:57:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isleofhopelessbirds/pseuds/isleofhopelessbirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He grabbed his pen, sitting down at the desk in that small hotel room with a small as he pressed the tip down against the paper and began to write, “Today was an improvement. Louis and I went out to eat crepes, he said it was his favorite, I have to take a mental note on that.. he actually told me he enjoyed his time with me.. “</p><p>Or, Harry was told by his therapist that if he wrote his feelings down on paper, it'll be therapeutic for him. So, Harry uses that as a key to talk to someone when he didn't have much people when he needed it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

Ever gotten the feeling of wanting something that you can’t have?

I know people have that feeling a lot, considering we, as people want what we can’t have. It’s a proven fact; we either want more food, money, and girls/boys. The list trails on, and on.

I, however, stand like a pale ghost on the bleachers of one the home games here at Rove Ville High watching exactly what I can’t have.

And that, my friends was Louis William Tomlinson.

  

My name is Harry Edward Styles, I was pretty proud of myself, school wise. I got good grades; teacher’s loved me and considered me a friend. I was in most honors and AP classes and that does limit my time with friends. Which I don’t have many anyways. It’s not like I was a social butterfly, I was more along the lines of-

 I felt the cool, white brick wall under my face as I clutch the textbooks against my chest. I clamber back, my cheeks flushed with humiliation as I realize what just happened.

Louis was laughing loudly at the impact he just caused and pointed at me, “Oh, fuck I couldn’t even see you- you’re such a fucking irrelevant ghost.” He turns on his heel with that last, hurtful comment and left me there to clean up the mess I made around the floor.

Yeah, that’s where I stood alone the lines.

I was a ghost; I was basically that gum on the bottom of desks that’s waiting to be cleaned up by a janitor. At least then I could have some interaction. I don’t care if I get called a ghost and people avoid me to purposely hurt my feelings. It doesn’t bother me, sure it did way back then when I wasn’t use to it like I am now. All the comments people throw at me is like second nature to my ears. The conclusion I gotten to is where they want whatever reaction from me, rather it’s anger, sadness or just complete fail at a comeback. It’s the reaction they want and that’s what I wasn’t going to give to them which basically made my life a bit easier. Now they go with speaking behind my back and acting like I don’t exist.

Oh, you must be wondering about what just happened. That, what happened back there. His name was Louis Tomlinson. Star quarter back of the Rove Ville football team the “Rovers” and was basically the “it” guy of the school. I guess you can find the answer to why I fawn over him.

It isn’t just because of his ego that made me interested in him. I have a few classes with him, not like he really pays attention in them either but when he does he puts his heart into what he thinks. Mainly, he focuses in AP English Literature. We would be talking and he would have a full out conversation about something and all you could do is listen but all that he is saying is true, you ponder over how many books he read, how much he actually studied to gather this information to basically slam the teacher to the ground with right facts.

I could tell you many reasons why I fawn over him, but that would take forever and I’m not here to tell you that story.

I’m here to tell you a story about an opportunity of a lifetime that brought my English AP class and me. We all got invited to spend the summer in France, Paris and Italy on a road trip to look and see the beautiful art works and sighs they have to offer. You must be thinking where my point is heading.

Well, my point really isn’t heading anywhere now, because I’m sitting here, writing at 2 AM in a tiny hotel in France right now. My point?

Not only did this trip give an amazing opportunity to see new places and explore..

 

But it also gave a special someone and I..

 

A _chance._


	2. A Troubled Boy

Harry's POV

 

         “You’re seeing this woman and that’s final!” Demanded my mother as she frustratingly placed the clear plastic cups down against the counter, turning to stare at me with impatient eyes.

          “You’re acting like I’m some fucking fucked up person when I’m not!” I defend myself. Right now, my mother and I were battling against each other with different points of view of my new scheduled therapist. I never gave in to the thought of needing to talk to someone since I was so used to keeping myself so bottled up and away from the world. I didn’t need people to come in, pry me open with a screwdriver or any tool they find laying around. I was bottled up for a reason, I only trust myself.

           My mother shook her head, “You don’t get what I’m trying to say here. Look at you!” She says, leaning her back against the counter and resuming, “Harry, I know you and I know when you need help. I have seen you drag yourself everyday with a frown on your face and I know something is going on in your head that you need to talk to someone about” She finished with a huff of her chest as she turns back to continue her work on her lunch for work she was busy making until I walked in from school with tears staining my cheeks and my failure to exit upstairs without her seeing.

           I stood quiet, letting her words sink in. Was I that readable that my mother knew for a while that I have been.. well, depressed? Of course, if you seen me in school I wasn’t as enthusiastic as I was. Now, every moment was torturous with everyone judging me. I get laughed at trying to answer a question, so I keep my hand down even though I want to join in on conversation. My social anxiety winning against the courage I had stored in a chest somewhere in my body that has yet to be unlocked.

           My mother couldn’t take my silence as an answer before she was turning back around and saying, “I know you think this won’t help you now but you need to trust me. Since you can’t talk to me, you need to talk to someone. Because, honey. I was just like you. I didn’t wanna open up to anyone about my problems because most were personal and for my own brain only to know. But, I learned in the long run that keeping your problems bottled up inside of you for too long will eventually tear you down and exhausted you.”

            I loved my mother, I knew I did but standing here listening to her talk about something so sensitive to me. I couldn’t help but run off upstairs for a chance of peace. I needed to isolate myself from people and that people being my mother and again, as much as I love her. Isolating myself was one of the many factors that helped me from basically going insane.

            I closed the door was I entered the bedroom and sat down against the bed with my knees bent and my elbows placed against my knees. Was I that fucked up that I needed a therapist? I mean, thinking about it. Many people my age see them for different reasons so it can’t be bad. But, then again. I heard many, many stories about them going wrong and the therapist is one rude asshole, I didn’t need that.

            I allowed sllep to take my pain away, but even though sleep took away the exhaustion that my both my body and mind felt, it didn’t take away the pain that nightmares brought.

 

“Harry” Muttered a voice

            I groaned, my fists lifting from my side to rub away the sleep that edged my eyes. I open them, adjusting my vision to the bright light and the person that muttered me awake. My mother. I sigh.

            “Mom, I just wanna sleep. I’m tired.”  
She sighs. “Honey, I made dinner and you need to eat. You didn’t eat last night so you’re eating tonight” She pats my leg, standing up and exiting the room. I didn’t wanna eat, I had no appetite and especially waking up from a nap made it worse. I had zero interest in food right not but telling my mom that, she’ll get even more worried and the idea of a therapist is officially going to start.

            I lifted myself up from the dinning table, heading to the kitchen where I saw my older sister with a cheery smile against her features. I smile back at her as I sit down and the normal routine of dinner came around. Me poking my food until my mother complained it was getting cold and I told her sorry, I began eating it without tasting the flavor like Gemma and her. I kept my head bowed and once I was down, I sprinted out of my chair to go to the kitchen to cleanse the dishes.

            After that, I went back in bed and slept until the morning brought it’s ray of light.

            I got up from my alarm clock, buzzing with energy since I had a lot of sleep last night. I grab my phone, unlocking the phone and seeing that Liam texted me last night and guilt washed over me for not checking it in time because the text was asking me if he could come over. I enjoyed Liam’s presence a lot so I quickly typed a long apology because I care too much of other peoples feelings. I returned my phone to the charger and got up to get ready.

            Ten minutes passed and I was brushing my teeth. I wore a white t-shirt with tight skinny jeans that framed my legs nicely. I had some black high top converse and my hair was stuck in a beanie like most of the times. I adjusted the beanie against my head so that some of my hair fell out which made it look natural. I inhaled a large gulp of air, waiting five seconds to exhale and whisper, “You’ll be fine. You don’t need a therapist.”

            I didn’t get the chance to eat the “amazing” dinner my mother created because I lied and told her Liam was expecting me at school. She smiled and didn’t say anything because she and I both knew my lack of friends.

            Though, I wish I knew where Liam was when I walked to school because standing alone in this school was waiting for a kick up the gut.. when you’re me.

            I tried texting Liam again but he didn’t get my last text message with the paragraph of a apology. It still said delivered and my hands began to shake nervously. Did he randomly choose he didn’t wanna be my friend? What if he chooses he didn’t wanna talk to me because he felt hurt that I didn’t respond last night? He is mad, for sure. Liam always text’s me back.

            I tried to control the anxiety attack that was threatening to come over to me but all hope was lost when I saw _him_ enter the school.

            Why was he so beautiful?

            Why was he so mesmerizing?

            Why did he hate me?

Those questions flittered my cluttered fill mind as Louis Tomlinson and his group Zayn Malik, Tucker Knight and Ethan Pikes entered the school. No, I’m not going to tell you how all eyes were on him because that’s a dramatic thing but I knew, if this were a movie scene, all eyes _would_ be on him.

            But I was the only was mesmerized by how happy he was walking down the hallway with his crew. I knew I never stood a chance with Louis, even though he was the main reason why I get butterflies in my stomach. He was also the main reason I got bruised eyes when I walk home.

            Louis Tomlinson was my bully.

It hurt saying that because how much I felt toward him but I couldn’t do anything about it. He enjoyed the pain he brings to me, the words that cut through me like daggers flying at high speed. The weakness in my knees as he threatened to put me in a headlock and snap my neck.

            And now you’re probably asking why I even bother to like a ruthless man in the first place.

            You don’t know Louis Tomlinson the way I did. No one did. Because I remember him as a kid that loved life back in elementary school, who would stop at anything to make the class laugh and even to this day he enjoys being the life of the party. He enjoyed literature the way I did, surprisingly we were both nerds that enjoyed more mature backs. In third grade I was interested in reading Pride and Prejudice and Louis was reading Wuthering Heights. We aren’t so much understanding the literature but having each other, everyday we could talk about it and help each other figure things out. But most importantly, I remember Louis Tomlinson.

Being my friend.

 

* * *

 

           I had English the next class, one of my personal favorites. You wanna know who else enjoyed that same subject?

Take a wild guess.

             He usually was late. Not that I’ve noticed. He came to class one minute before the bell rings and the teacher lectured him about that but he didn’t care about what he had to say, he just got in his normal spot in the middle of the class. I was in the back

            It’s not that Louis doesn’t care about his education like normal badass guys do. In fact, Louis is a pretty smart kid.

Not that I notice or anything. Oh, whom am I kidding? I notice anything this boy does and it’s pathetic, I know.

            The teacher was talking about our next unit which was French History and he turns and pauses for a moment, staring at us with those creep but excited eyes and we all knew what was coming; he had good news.

A kid in the front said, “stop doing that look and just tell us!” He says and everyone else agreed but I didn’t have a voice, I just smiled at the teacher.

            “How’d you guys know I have some good news?” He laughed and Louis rolled his eyes, leaning his muscular back against the chair and it began to tilt

 _Harry, stop looking at him. Seriously, you’re being psychotic right now._ My conscience taunts at me and I mentally slapped myself telling.. myself to shut up. I know that already I just don’t require self-control.

            “Alright, I won’t drag the announcement like I usually do so I’m just gonna peal that band aid off” He says and stood, “Since this is our last unit of the year. I’m inviting only this class, my favorite class of all AP literature to join me and a another high school AP Literature class to a trip of your life.”

A bunch of oh’s and ah’s flittered the room and Louis was not interested, I could tell. He stopped tilting his chair back and had his eyebrows arched together. He was just so damn beautiful. 

           Whilst the teacher was telling the class that the whole announcement was actually a trip to Paris and France, which I desperately wanted to pay attention because he mentioned that this was all free of charge. The only thing not free is souvenir money to buy. I wish I was paying attention but I could. Louis looked at me.

           I know the end of the world was coming down at my feet as my face blaze to a heated fire as I look down. After a few seconds, hoping he wasn’t looking again, I look up to find him laughing with his friend beside him, which was Tucker by the way. I couldn’t understand why Tucker was in this class, he was dumb and didn’t deserve a place here in AP Literature.

 _You don’t deserve a space on earth, faggot._ My negative self told me as I could feel my conscience laughing at me at my attempt at being mean to someone; by telling them they didn’t deserve a place in a class, how ruthless.

           Back to Louis. He was laughing at something Tucker said and then, he turned back around and said.. to me.

“If you’re gonna keep staring at me might as well take a picture, _faggot_.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy this series, like it and I'll post the first chapter soon x


End file.
